Another Breed of Cat
by UnlitLantern
Summary: England accidentally casts a spell on his pet cat Scone, with unknown results. However, the spell seems to be contagious, spreading from cat to cat like forest fire. What's happening to the cats? And will England be able to find a way to fix it? I will try to update this one regularly, as regularly as I can with school. Contains both Nekotalia and Hetalia. Rating may change.


Chapter 1 - Curiosity Killed the Cat

By UnlitLantern

Scone twitched his small pink nose, making his thick whiskers shake. The cat sat on the thick cushion of the recliner, tail wrapped neatly around his paws. The scottish fold delicately picked up his front paw and licked it, green eyes scanning the living room. The tomcat yawned; he had just finished a biscuit and felt comfortably sleepy. He rolled on his back and gave out a satisfied purr, front paws gently pedaling in the air. It was a rare moment when he was truly relaxed and at ease…

Suddenly, he stopped his paws. His folded ears swiveled to the right, towards the basement door. The tomcat turned his head. Faint mumbling reached his ears, speaking in a language he had never heard before. It defiantly wasn't any kind of cat. It wasn't dog either… Bird maybe? No, that couldn't be it.

Perhaps it was some kind of human? If it was, he had certainly never heard it before… He master's words never sounded like that. L'amour's idiot of a master didn't sound like that… Neither did Pasta's, or Panda's, or Vodka's… It sounded very strange. An uneasy feeling bubbled inside the cat's belly. Was it his master? Was he in trouble?

Scone rose to his paws, sleepiness disappearing. He had to check to make sure his master was okay. He padded quietly to the basement door. The cat pushed the door with his front paws and it swung back noiselessly. Scone began his decent down the stairs, the foreign words growing louder with every paw step. The tomcat pricked his ears when he reached the last step. In front of the scottish fold stood a robed figure. Scone paused. The figure smelled like his master, and it was speaking in a familiar accent. The cat descended the last step and walked silently over to who he assumed was his master. It was indeed his master. He was standing on the top point of a golden pentagram in the floor. The five-pointed star was surrounded by a thick white circle, and the whole thing was glowing faintly.

Scone walked around and rubbed himself against his master's leg, purring loudly. His master didn't seem to register that he was even there. He frowned; maybe there was something wrong after all. Scone stepped back a bit and sat down, facing his master. Hopefully, his master would notice him and snap out of it.

—

England's slim, pale fingers grasped the wand firmly. The hood on his robe cast dark shadows over his face, making his eyes shine. The englishman's hands were held arrow-straight above his head; left hand clenched in a white-knuckled fist, right hand pointing the tip of the black wand at the center of the pentagram. His eyes were half-lidded. His pupils were dilated to the point where his irises were reduced to a thin line of viridian. They stared straight ahead, not seeming to comprehend anything. Ancient spells tumbled from his dry lips. With every syllable, the pentagram glowed brighter.

England's eyelids slid farther down. The spell was slowly starting to drain his energy.

His voice grew louder as the ending of the spell drew nearer. The englishman's hands began to shake; his breath became shallower. His robed body trembled as the pentagram lit up.

This spell was so much more powerful than anything he had ever tried before, and it was beginning to take it's toll.

"**þu you cursest… **(To curse)**"** England whispered. His eyes rolled back in his head. He was exhausted, but he was almost at the end of the spell. "**Mín elþéod…** (My enemies)"

The tip of England's wand started to glow a bright golden color. Every part of the englishman's body wound tighter and tighter from the buildup of magic. England's eyes flew open and he yelled the last few words of the spell. Magic burst from the tip of England's wand, shooting towards the center of the pentagram.

England jumped when a shrill shriek sliced through the air. The englishman looked down at the pentagram. In the center of the star was his pet cat Scone.

The cat was practically on it's toes. It's claws were unsheathed and gripping the cold concrete floor. Scone's eyes were bulging and it's back was arched. Every single hair on it's body was sticking straight out. Sparks of gold magic bounced off of his fur.

"Scone?! Bloody 'ell, 'ow did you get there?!" England dropped his wand and ran over to his petrified cat. He gently wrapped his arms around his pet, panicking all the while. The spell was supposed to hit the center of the pentagram, an inanimate object, not an actual creature! That could greatly alter the spell, making the outcome completely different than what was originally intended! England cradled the shaking cat.

"Scone; Scone; kitty are you okay?" Scone's shaking died down a little bit and he sheathed his claws. His green eyes darted to England. England sighed in relief. "Come on, lets get you upstairs." The country was beginning to feel the effects of the spell once again. Exhaustion swept over him as he climbed the stairs. Finally, he reached the top of the stairs and entered the living room. He took a few shaky steps into the room and collapsed, falling into unconsciousness in a matter of seconds. Scone yowled loudly. He was now entangled in England's arms. The tomcat squirmed, slipping out of his master's grip. Scone sniffed his master. He wasn't moving, and his breath was slow and quiet. Scone's orange-brown tail fluffed up. His master needed help!

Scone ran to the door and leaped out of the cat flap. He still felt kind of tingly from whatever had hit him earlier, but that was the farthest thing from his mind. He was trying to figure out who he could get to help his master.

'I know!' He thought, 'I can get Hero's master! 'e always comes over, I'm sure 'e can help!'

Scone continued to run, lost in his own thoughts. However, his running was stopped abruptly when he crashed into another cat. Scone coughed when his senses were assaulted with the feeling of thick, well-groomed fur and the overpowering scent of flowers. The scottish fold fell backwards, his back slamming into the ground. Scone winced when a long, fluffy tail was brushed ever so gently under his nose.

"_Bonjour_ Scone." Meowed an accented voice. Scone looked up to see a light blonde persian standing above him. The french cat lowered his head so that their noses were touching, much to Scone's dismay. "What are you doing 'ere _mon ami_?" The persian's sapphire eyes stared into Scone's emerald ones. The english cat made a noise of disgust.

"Mind your own business L'amour." He certainly didn't want any help from this stupid cat, or his owner.

"Oh, but _mon ami_," L'amour purred. "Why don't you stay for a bit?" The persian then laid down on top of Scone's warm stomach, long blonde fur covering the other like a blanket. An enraged screech exploded from Scone, surprising the other. The scottish fold struck one side of L'amour's face with a clawed, orange-brown paw. The persian jumped off of Scone. He landed with his eyes wide and all of his fur fluffed out. Scone snickered as thought that L'amour looked like a cotton-ball with googly eyes. But Scone's eyes narrowed when he saw that his body was trembling and crackling with what looked like golden sparks. L'amour made a small pained noise and sunk to the ground.

"St-tupid jerk… That really 'urt…" He mewled pathetically. Small whimpers rose from the cat.

Scone stood frozen.

'What on earth…?' He thought.

L'amour whimpered again.

Scone, deciding that it was high time he should be leaving, slowly slunk back, whipped around, and sprinted away.


End file.
